


I'll Hold You Up If You Hold Me Together

by themetaphornextdoor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Post Swan Song, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-17
Updated: 2010-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetaphornextdoor/pseuds/themetaphornextdoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How do you get up in the morning? After it's all over, only one person remains with Dean."<br/>Dean/Cas, PG, Angst. 521 words</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Hold You Up If You Hold Me Together

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Angst, References to (canon) character death, Unashamed abuse of metaphors and clichés
> 
> Spoilers: All Seasons 1 through 5 - especially 5.22 "Swan Song"

 

 

Castiel fit Dean. The angel filled the hole inside him that had been steadily growing since his father's death. The hole in his gut that expanded again when Sam died, and kept growing even when his brother came back. The hole where his heart used to be before forty years in Hell.

Some days – well, to be honest, most days – he felt nothing but a shell. Underneath his skin there was only that hole. Huge, gaping, empty. It wasn't even black, there was no darkness there, no emotion, no anger. Just… _**nothing.**_

Then, Castiel.

Castiel walked into his life, and, not long after, into his soul. This righteous, frustrating, doubting angel filled the hole inside Dean. Not completely at first. But now, more than ever, he fit him like nothing ever had. Kept him together, just when it seemed he was about to crumple inwards on himself.

Castiel shifted, somehow, into the empty space inside him – and fit perfectly. Even physically, the angel was slightly smaller, as though he'd been made precisely to slot himself into Dean. Into the shell. He was a walking metaphor - a living symbol of his loss, of that loss, found.

Taking residence beneath Dean's skin, keeping him upright, standing, walking, living – when it was all Dean could do most days to open his eyes.

Sam was gone; Lisa and Ben he'd left behind after just four days. Bobby was alive, but there wasn't much to say anymore, and the old hunter wouldn't look him in the eye. Perhaps he was afraid he'd have to confront Dean's pain – and so, his own. Or maybe he knew he would look at Dean and all he would see was Sam.

Castiel had left too, but it wasn't the goodbye he'd feared it was. The angel had returned, almost like a magnet seeking it's north again.

Dean had embraced Castiel for so long, while the angel had filled his heart and mind, his life – supported; trusted; loved. And in the end, he'd helped keep Castiel together, contained, as surely as he'd held Dean upright. In truth, they fit _**each other.**_

Damaged puzzle pieces, filling gaps in each other to create a whole. A dysfunctional, messy, painful picture, but alive. Alone, neither of them were enough. Castiel was lifeless, scattered to the wind; Dean was soul-less, too weak to stand. They were able to give the other just what they lacked. A co-dependent symmetry of pain and grief and sacrifice. Tempered by the exchange of faith, faded but still present; strength, in small, fitful bursts; words, though few; and endless touches – however little it helped in the long term.

Dean was once asked, a lifetime ago, "How do you get up in the morning?"

He hadn't been able to reply. He hadn't really known how he did it, or, after a while, why.

The fate of the world had rested on his shoulders, to be replaced, now, with the infinitely worse crush of grief, the yawning nothing-ness. He still shouldn't know, but despite everything, despite all that had happened between then and now, he did.

Now, he had an answer.

**  
_"Castiel."_  
**

  



End file.
